The Hour of Dreams (11 page)

Without even thinking, I turned myself back around and felt his breath hovering over the top of my head. I dared not move, and together we stood there in the dark, so close yet so distant, as neither one of us knew what to say next.

After what felt like the longest silence of my life, he murmured, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I whispered in a labored, cracked voice. I cleared my throat immediately, hoping for smoother results the next time.

“For finding me…saving me…trusting me.”

In the darkness, I smiled with relief, no longer unsure of my decision to visit. “You’re welcome.”

At that point, I had to choose whether to stay or leave. The latter was not appealing, but neither was having him stand all night, so I suggested he should sit.

Without delay, he moved about the dark space and soon the blackened room was lit up by a soft candle. The jolt I had felt before came to life again at the actual sight of him. Still in his white pants, he was shirtless save for the bandage wrapped tightly around his waist. Silently, he sat at the head of the bed and leaned his back against the wall, leaving a space at the foot. His gaze traveled between me and the open space, offering a silent invitation, which I accepted.

That night, we talked about everything. He was oddly interested in my life on the farm, and when I was done answering his questions, I took it upon myself to ask him just as many. He talked about joining the British army to help support his mother back home. His father had served before him, and had died of illness when William was young. He said he’d thought coming to the Americas would be an honorable experience. The king himself had promised it would be a rewarding and prestigious duty.

But when he got here, he quickly discovered there was a resistance he wasn’t aware of. Realizing the people here just wanted to be free, he felt confused and conflicted. But there was nothing he could do, having already landed, with no way of returning.

So there he was, traveling with his regiment, helping keep order. It wasn’t until he received word of his mother’s passing away that he felt his actions were completely meaningless. It was shortly thereafter that he received his flogging.

It had been an early morning, and he and his men were stationed in a town. They had just arrived, when a young boy spat on his comrade’s shoe. His comrade chased after the boy and started beating him senseless. When William broke it up, the comrade challenged his authority and they scuffled.

For being out of line and appearing undisciplined to the natives, William and his comrade both suffered ten lashes. I couldn’t help but stop him. “Why would you continue to serve when they did that to you?”

He studied me for a moment. His mouth formed a soft frown as he shrugged his shoulders. “Where else am I going to go?”

Every word that came out of his mouth earned one more piece of my affection. There was so much about him that made me want him to never leave. I wanted to hang on to the moment forever, but I heard my name slice through the air like a swift, merciless sword.

“Phoebe!”

Both of our heads turned toward the door as it burst open to reveal my father.

My mouth hung open, and I was so stunned, my body couldn’t even make the move to stand. Though I felt immediately guilty, my father didn’t look angry or shocked. It was more a look of disappointment. But my mother made up for that. She quickly showed herself in the doorway, with eyes wide and lips pressed.

“Phoebe!” she hissed sharply. “I will not accept this in my house. John, I want him out of here immediately. You must see to it now.”

My father glanced between my desperate face and William’s, but before he could form words, the first shots were fired, and all of us, quickly, turned our heads toward the window.

I
woke up unwillingly to bright sunlight. I squeezed my eyes shut again, hoping to fall back asleep. I couldn’t wake up now. Not after coming so far.
Ugh!
I groaned, turning back over, thinking back to the last thing I remembered. Maybe if I thought hard enough, I could pick up right where I left off. I tried and tried, but it wasn’t happening. I groaned again.

“You okay?”

I snapped my head around much too fast, thinking it was William, but then caught sight of Wes standing in the bathroom doorway. But I wasn’t disappointed. The sparks I felt in my dream couldn’t compare to the real ones I still felt when seeing Wes. Especially when his hair was wet.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Ten.”

“Ten! I slept that long?”

“Yup. Dreaming again?”

“Yeah.”

He raised his brows and made his way over to the bed. “Really?”

“Yeah. And a lot.” I focused, trying to remember it all. Once I recounted as much as I could, he shook his head. “What?”

“Nothing. I just cannot believe you keep saving me. Really, it’s like I cannot fend for myself.”

I smiled and nudged him. “Yeah, you probably could. But if you did, then I don’t suppose we’d keep meeting like this.”

“I guess not,” he said rolling his eyes slightly. “Hungry?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Actually, I am.”

He released that signature half-smile of his. “Meet me downstairs.”

“What do you have planned. Eggs? Potatoes? Toast? Pancakes?”

He laughed and stood up. “Nope. Cereal.”

My jaw dropped and my face contorted into a pout.

“Hey. You’re the one who said not to spoil you all the time.” Winking, he turned and left me still pouting, but unable to contain a smile.

I hopped up and brushed my teeth, quickly threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, and made my way downstairs.

He was already at the table with two bowls, milk, and four kinds of cereal. “Your choice,” he said, waving his hand.

We ate and talked about my dream and what it meant. He was still happy and confident in his belief that our past meant a good future for us. I still wasn’t convinced it had any better outcome, since I wasn’t any older in the dream. Plus his memory about a fire wasn’t sitting well with me. I couldn’t feel good about the past until I knew it wasn’t confirmation of repeated disasters for us.

About halfway through our hearty breakfast, the doorbell rang. Odd. Not that we never had visitors, but people usually called first. Unless it was a delivery.

“Expecting someone?” I asked.

“No. I’ll get it.”

He hopped up and made his way to the foyer. After a minute I heard voices, followed by, “Yeah, she’s in here. Come on.”

Wes returned, followed by a nervous, uncomfortable-looking Dawn. Her eyes were bouncing around the room, her hands fumbling with her pockets.

“Hey, Dawn. What’s up?”

“Um,” she said, standing awkwardly next to a chair. Wes sensed her discomfort and picked up his almost-empty bowl.

“I’ll just leave you two to—”

“No!” Dawn said, sharply enough to freeze him in his tracks. “Please stay. I need to talk to you guys. Both.”

I dropped hold of my spoon and pushed away my half-soggy cereal.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Sort of.”

Wes’ apprehensive gaze traveled back and forth between us, and then he pulled out a chair. “Here. Why don’t you sit,” he offered.

Dawn sucked in a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly before flopping heavily into the chair. With her seated diagonally from me, Wes cautiously returned to his seat directly across from me and turned his chair toward her. We exchanged another quick, confused glance before giving all our attention to Dawn.

She sat completely still with her hands in her lap, eyes red and puffy. I began to get worried.
What had she done?

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

After another deep breath, her shoulders swelled and she secured her long bangs behind her ears. “Nothing. Anymore. Listen, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“And?” I leaned forward.

“And I don’t want to keep the baby.”

“What?!” I said, nearly coming out of my seat.

She threw her hands out, stopping me. “Wait. Not like that. I mean, I’m going to have it. But I just don’t think I can do it. Be a mom, I mean. At least not yet.”

“Okay?”

“So, I was thinking. I want someone who can take better care of it. Someone who is responsible.”

“You mean like adoption?”

She smiled slightly, with a glint of relief in her eyes. “Yes.”

I exchanged another glance with Wes, who gave a subtle shrug. I guess that sounded okay. My gaze found hers again.

“I think you’ll be a good mom, but if you think that’s best, then okay.”

She nodded. “And I want you guys to adopt it.”

“What?” I asked a little too loudly. She looked at me, frozen. Panicked, I looked at Wes, whose eyes were complete circles. He shook his head in a fast, rapid no and looked like someone was squeezing the life out of him.

Dawn pressed on, pleading her case. “You guys are perfect. You’re married. You love each other. You have money. You can do it. A whole lot better than me.”

My head was shaking involuntarily. Was she kidding? “Dawn. Look. We can’t take care of a baby. We—”

“But I can? Please, Sophie. Be real!”

I was at a loss for words. “Um.” I looked at Wes with desperate eyes. He shrugged. “Wes, tell her. We can’t take on a baby. We’re completely the wrong people.” I nearly growled the last word.

He cleared his throat and blinked a few times before looking her way. “Dawn. Listen. We would do anything to help you. We really would. But you don’t understand. We’ve got a lot of problems that you don’t see. And we cannot adopt a baby. We just can’t.”

“Nice,” she said, getting teary. “I love how you think I can do it with no problem, but the two of you won’t.”

“Dawn,” I interrupted. “Why don’t you let someone else adopt? There are a lot of people who would love to have a baby.”

She shook her head. “No, I won’t give it away to just anyone. I want it to know I care about it. I still want to see it grow up and—”

“There’s open adoption,” Wes said.

“No. Come on, guys. I’m looking for help. Not that.”

I wasn’t sure what else to say, and I could tell she was getting upset, which took me aback. She was making me feel guilty. Like we were failing her. That wasn’t the case, and I certainly didn’t want her thinking that taking care of a baby was the issue. It kinda was, but the real issue was the fact that our future was so vague. Taking on a baby just wasn’t an option. I had to make her understand.

“Dawn, have you forgotten what I told you about my medical condition? We don’t even know how much time I have left. Seriously. I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders sank and she looked in her lap. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I just don’t know how I’m going to do it. I can’t afford it and just thought about you two and—”

Wes touched her shoulder. “I’ll help you financially. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She looked at him, shaking her head. “No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he argued. “We’re not going to let you worry about money. Just call us godparents and we’ll make sure you have what you need to be a good mom. Okay?”

Still looking down, her tears finally spilled over. “I can’t do this.”

“Sure, you can,” he said.

Sliding my chair back, I made my way over to her and whispered in her ear. “We’ll help you. We promise.”

***

Between trying to help Dawn accept her future and help myself hang on to mine, it was nearly impossible to think about a dream. Every night I tried to fall asleep with a clear head, hoping to return to Phoebe, but I kept thinking about Dawn, a baby, dying, my mom, Wes, and the holidays.

Life felt so jumbled, the holidays came quickly and passed just as quickly. If I wasn’t working, my mom found something for me to help her with, and when that was done, she was always over at my house, decorating and keeping us in the spirit of family and giving, instead of worrying about the future. All of the cheer kept it hard to focus on what I wanted. Instead, every night I dreamed about weird things like elves and turkeys. Maybe my mind was just too cluttered. Nothing seemed to fall like I wanted, but then Wes had an idea.

He knew I was struggling to get back down memory lane. Somehow, hearing gunshots while Phoebe’s father was in the process of kicking him out didn’t rattle him. He insisted there was a future there, and to help me see it too, he bought me a snow globe for Christmas.

At first glance I thought it was a joke, because I was always griping about missing the white Christmases in Virginia. However, the look of sincerity on his face told me he had put a lot of thought into the gift, so I gave it a more appreciative glance. That’s when I saw the little log house with a porch and tiny rocking chairs. The snow falling around the little scene made it look like a dream, and that thought brought back the warm feeling in my chest.

“What is this?”

He moistened his lips while gathering his thoughts and then moved in closer, pointing to the little house.

“That’s the house I’ve seen in my dreams. And we were sitting on that porch, together…old. I had it made especially for you.”

Taking a closer look, the little house captured my gaze, hypnotizing me, and I was unable to pull away. Starring at it, I felt it too. Or maybe I wanted to feel it. Wes and me, old. My eyes started to glass over. Wes kissed my forehead softly and pulled me to him.

“Whenever you doubt, just look at this. It’s real. I know it.”

“But what if it’s not what happens in
my
dream?”

“Then you believe mine. Whatever happens, it doesn’t change this memory for me. You just have to trust me.”

And that night, I set the gift on the nightstand next to my bed and stared at it in the glow of the alarm clock. When the snow settled, the stillness around the house calmed me, until my lids felt heavy and I drifted into a deep, dark sleep.

S
harp spasms struck inside my chest as the shots continued to ring out.

William and my father hurried over to the window.